Chapter 8 #2
Kellat traded a few more words with M’Rell… something about a paper, a technique that sailed straight over her head, and then steered her onward, his palm never leaving her back. She leaned into the touch, letting it anchor her in the swirl of alien faces.
“You’re good at this,” she said, low enough that only he could hear.
“At what?”
“The whole…” She waved her hand at the room. “The thing. The doctor thing. The important-guy thing.”
“The important-guy thing.” His tone was dry, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I am a lead healer, Delilah. It’s my profession.”
“Yeah, but.” She shrugged. “On the station you were just… you. In your office with your scans. Still scary, but here you’re…” She trailed off.
“Scary?” He looked down at her, and his expression shifted a little, like the professional mask had thinned for a heartbeat. “Here I am, what?”
I don’t know. Someone else… someone who might not need me.
She shoved the thought down before it could reach her face and grinned instead. “Fancy. You’re very fancy. I’m basically arm candy for a celebrity doctor right now.”
“You are not arm candy.”
“I’m a little bit arm candy,” she pouted. “It’s the dress. It’s doing a lot of heavy lifting.”
His hand pressed more firmly against her back, pulling her closer to the warmth of his bigger body, and the look in his eyes went hot enough to curl her toes. “The dress is not the thing I’m looking at.”
Before she could even work out what she’d say to that, the crowd shifted, and her attention snagged on the far side of the hall.
Kellat followed her gaze. “The Vorrtan delegation. They’re who we need to see.”
She nodded, not able to form a word. The Vorrtan delegation stood apart from the rest of the gathering, and they looked like they’d stepped out of a completely different reality. Her brain needed a full second to catch up with her eyes.
They were tall, taller than the Lathar, and she hadn’t even thought that was possible. They were also broad-shouldered, with powerful frames.
“They’re red,” she whispered to Kellat as they walked that way.
He slid her a sideways glance down. “Yes, I am aware.”
Then she clocked the eyes themselves. Every male had the same ones… catlike and slitted, an impossible amber that glowed faintly in the faceted light. And every single pair was angled toward the center of the group, toward a figure seated on a low, curved bench like it was a throne.
She was older than the rest, her red skin marked with a single pale scar running from temple to jaw, and she held herself with a stillness that made Delilah’s hindbrain sit up and pay attention.
“Scary lady,” she murmured.
Kellat’s hand shifted on her back, steering her toward them, and her stomach dropped.
Do I have to go over there?” she asked, hoping like hell he said no.
“Yes.”
“They look like they could snap me in half.”
“They will not snap you in half.”
“You sound very sure about that.”
“I am.”
She was still hunting for a comeback when they arrived, the crowd parting around them, and suddenly there was nothing between her and the scary red aliens but a few feet of air.
Kellat inclined his head, formal and precise. “Warlady. I am Kellat V’Raav, Lead Healer of Devan Station. May I present Delilah Sawyer, of Earth.”
“Amaelii,” the woman said simply. “Warlady of the Vorrtan.”
Her gaze moved to Delilah, studying her openly… taking in the dress, the hair, the way she stood. Delilah’s smile froze at the edges.
“And what are you to the healer?” the warlady asked. Her voice was low and smooth, her odd accent clipping the edges off each word.
The question landed square in Delilah’s chest, and for half a heartbeat she had nothing. Colleague? No. Patient? Not really. Not after last night and this morning and the way he’d held her in the shower. She slid Kellat a glance, hoping he’d help her out.
“His guest,” she said, and her voice came out bright and steady, not even a tremor. “And his patient, technically, but I’m trying to get him to stop leading with that. It’s terrible for my ego.”
The warlady’s lips curved slightly. “You are honest.”
“I’m too short to be anything else. Lying takes height and a sense of gravitas I just don’t have.”
There was a moment of silence. Then the warlady made a sound that might have been a laugh, low and brief, and the tension in Delilah’s shoulders eased a fraction. She was doing it. She was holding her own.
You’ve got this. You’ve been charming your way out of trouble since you could talk. This is just Harper’s parent-teacher conference all over again, except the teacher is an alien warlady who could definitely kill you.
Then the warlady’s attention shifted back to Kellat. She leaned forward slightly, amber and turquoise eyes narrowing with interest.
“Healer V’Raav. I’ve read your work on neural pathway reconstruction. Your theories on adaptive regeneration are… most unusual.”
Kellat inclined his head. “I take that as a compliment.”
“You should. Unusual is rare in medicine. Most healers are content to repeat what they were taught.” She rose from her seat in a single fluid motion. Delilah’s eyes widened. She was tall, with a capital T, easily as tall, if not a little taller than Kellat.
She stepped closer, tilting her head as she assessed Kellat. “I have a case that might interest you. A warrior with spinal trauma that has resisted every treatment we’ve attempted. Your particular discipline might be what he needs.”
“I would be honored to consult,” Kellat said, his voice smooth and professional. “Perhaps after the morning session—“
“Now.” The warlady smiled, and it didn’t reach her unusual eyes. “I find that opportunities have a way of disappearing if one waits.”
She turned, gesturing to the cluster of males behind her, and Delilah looked at them properly for the first time. Heavily muscled and ripped as hell, they stood in a loose semicircle, watching the warlady’s every movement. Delilah frowned; they didn’t seem to be guards or assistants.
“She’s got the full collector’s set there, “ Delilah murmured, the words out before she could stop them.
The warlady glanced back, one elegant brow lifting, and her face went hot. But the woman didn’t look offended. If anything, she looked amused.
“Something like that. They are my harem,” she said, and turned back to Kellat, her hand lifting to rest on his arm. “Come. I’ll show you the case file.”
She didn’t ask Delilah to come, or even look at her.
Kellat hesitated. His gaze cut to Delilah, something flickering behind it, but the professional mask was already sliding back into place.
“Of course,” he said. “Lead the way.”
The bottom dropped out of Delilah’s stomach as he walked off.
Okay. Okay, this is fine. This is work. He’s a doctor. She’s a warlord—lady… whatever. This is literally what he came here to do.
“Right.” Her smile snapped into place so fast it almost hurt. “I should go find some food anyway. I saw a buffet table on the way in, and I’ve been thinking about it for the last ten minutes.”
“It was lovely to meet you,” she called out after the warlady, bright and easy. “Your hair is amazing. The braids? Stunning. I’d ask for your stylist, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t afford them.”
The warlady said something in reply, but Delilah didn’t hear it. She was already walking, her sneakers silent on the crystal floor, the smile pinned in place.
She made it to the edge of the hall before she let herself stop. Finding a spot by a pillar, out of the flow of traffic, she stood with her hands clasped in front of her, her heart racing.
He didn’t say no. He didn’t even hesitate. She touched his arm and he just… went.
Her eyes stung. She blinked hard, forcing it back. Not here. Not now. So she turned, just once, and looked back across the hall.
Kellat stood with the warlady, their heads bent together over a data screen, her hand still resting on his arm.
They looked like they belonged in the same frame, two of a kind.
Both powerful and brilliant. The harem stood arrayed behind them, beautiful and devoted, and Kellat fit into the picture as if he’d always been part of it.
She didn’t.
She turned away, her throat tight, and started walking toward the buffet table. Perhaps they would have pastries. Pastries didn’t judge.